Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“The young prince was confused as he stumbled into the wayward hut. Where, from outside, it had looked dilapidated and even abandoned, the inside was magnificent to behold. Polished timber. Plush furniture. Richly painted walls and artistry. And that wasn’t to mention the smell of something divine bubbling away in the kitchen.
As for the reason for this? Why, it had everything to do with the witch.
Alistair had the book open on his lap, and he read from it with a deep and commanding voice that he hoped was filled with gravitas. He was not much of an actor, but in this instance, he felt that he was doing a rather good job.
“Who are you who dares to disturb my home?” Miss Norleigh had the same book open to read from, but she was doing so on her feet and standing back in the room. What was more, she read her part with a strange accent, no doubt in an effort to imitate the witch.
“What was that?” Alistair looked up from the book.
“What was what?”
“That voice,” he chuckled. “Is that an accent?”
“I…” Miss Norleigh grimaced. “I was trying to sound wicked and evil.”
He laughed. “You sounded like you had a cold.”
“I did not!”
“I liked it.” Hugh lay in bed, and he wore a smile on his face that shone even brighter than the midday sun.
“See!” Miss Norleigh put her hands on her hips and widened her eyes at Alistair. “It was good.”
Alistair rolled his eyes, chuckling all the while. “If you say so…”
“Not just me,” she defended. “Hugh, also. And seeing as he is the sick one, his opinion is all that matters.”
Alistair cleared his throat and went back to the book. This time, it was his turn to read the part of the prince, and he deepened his voice to achieve the effect. “I meant no offense. But I was lost, and I stumbled upon this hut by pure chance.”
Miss Norleigh snorted. “And he mocks my accent…”
“I did not do an accent,” Alistair protested. “I deepened my voice, for effect. It was princely. Some might even say charming.”
“It sounded as if you had a half-chewed potato stuck in your throat.”
Hugh burst into laughter.
Alistair looked flatly between them. “I will remind you that it was your suggestion that we do this. I was happy to read it as normal.”
“Oh, where is the fun in that?” Miss Norleigh said.
“Don’t stop.” Hugh looked from Alistair to Miss Norleigh, excitement brimming behind his eyes. He was still sick, still weak, but he looked as strong as he had in days. “Pl – please. I like it.” Then, he pouted and started to cough… although Alistair suspected that was just to garner sympathy.
Even if it was forced, the effect was the same, and Alistair sighed as he bent his head back over his book, preparing to continue reading his story.
And yes, that included the so-called accent that he put on.
“Please, if you might aid me in my travels, that would be greatly appreciated.” He read.
“And why should I do such a thing?” Miss Norleigh sneered wickedly. “I ought to boil your bones and hang you on my wall!”
Alistair cleared his throat, as the next part was not a character but the story’s exposition.
“The prince knew that he must choose his next words carefully. Where he could not be certain, he had heard tales of old crones similar to the hideous beast who stood before him. With her leathery skin. Her beady eyes. Her nose that stuck out like a bent finger from her face. And that wasn’t to mention the scent of her!
She could only be the famed Baba Yaga, famous for killing princes much like he was… ”
Alistair had not meant to spend the morning reading stories with Hugh.
In fact, all he had expected this morning was to check on the young boy and ensure that his recovery was going well.
It had been three days now since the fever took him, and while he was coming along in leaps and bounds, he was still frail and confined to bed.
He had come upon Miss Norleigh reading the young boy a story. She was sitting by the head of his bed, and as she read, Hugh read along with his own book; even as sick as he was, he was still dedicated to his lessons.
Alistair’s arrival had Miss Norleigh suggesting that he join them. Next, she suggested that they read the parts as if they were a play. Next, Hugh agreed to this request with the most enthusiasm he’d shown in three days. And next… well, I couldn’t very well say no, now, could I?
It was more fun than Alistair had expected.
Miss Norleigh took to her role as Baba Yaga with gusto and enthusiasm, even standing and moving around the room as she acted the part out.
Alistair did his best, not wishing to let down her performance with his own shoddy one.
And Hugh watched and listened and laughed along as if it was the most fun that he’d had in his entire life.
It warmed Alistair’s heart to be involved.
He loved that Hugh was enjoying himself so much.
He loved that the two of them were growing closer each day, with each conversation, and that the initial awkwardness of their relationship was quickly fading.
And he especially loved that Miss Norleigh was a part of it all.
“Well? Miss Norleigh asked in her cruel voice. “I am waiting to hear your excuse. Personally, I rather like the idea of hearing you beg.”
“I have no intention of begging,” Alistair responded as the lost prince.
“Ah, so you choose death. How very original.”
“I thought perhaps we could strike a bargain? My life for… whatever it is that beautiful women like yourself might want?”
Miss Norleigh pretended to look away as if shy. “Did you just say… You lie to me, prince. You are trying to fool me with your devil’s tongue.”
“I do no such thing. I have travelled this world, I have seen beauty far and wide, and nothing comes close to the majesty that stands before me. When I leave here, I might have to rip out my own eyes, knowing that I would never see such beauty again.”
She was only playing a role, but the way that Miss Norleigh looked at Alistair as she read her lines, the flirtatious glimmer in her eyes, made his stomach flutter. He tried not to let it show, wishing to keep the confident facade of the prince, but he squirmed in his chair, nonetheless.
“That is too kind,” she said.
“It is truth,” he responded.
“I was going to kill you, only now, well, I am not in such a mood as that. Maybe later, if I feel like it, but your kind words have bought you a day, oh charming prince.”
“It is a day I will cherish.”
“You might not…” Miss Norleigh flashed her eyes at him and grinned. “Not when you learn what you must do for your supper. You are a prince, and that sword by your side looks mighty sharp. Perfect for killing –"
A knock at the door interrupted their storytelling.
Alistair started at the noise, and he almost forgot where he was and what he was doing. He had been reading from the book, but at every available instance he looked up to find Miss Norleigh’s eyes…
“Your Grace.” Mrs. Fletcher stood in the doorway. “I am sorry to interrupt… whatever this is.”
“Not at all.” Alistair cleared his throat, closed the book, and turned a little too quickly. “Is something the matter, Mrs. Fletcher?”
“No, Your Grace,” the elderly maid assured him. “But you have guests. Two of them, in fact.”
He blinked. “Two? I don’t remember anyone sending word that they were visiting.”
“Unannounced arrivals, Your Grace,” Mrs. Fletcher said. Then, she smirked coyly as if at a joke. “They arrived separately, and their timing is merely a coincidence. Much to their chagrin.”
“What does that mean?”
Her coy smile grew. “You shall see, Your Grace. I left them in your office.”
Alistair sighed and then groaned as he stood. He held the book out for Hugh to take, noticing immediately how disappointed the boy was that he was going. “Mark the spot,” he told Hugh. “And we will finish it later.”
“We will?” Hugh asked hopefully.
“Only if Miss Norleigh allows it…” He looked at the governess and she smiled sheepishly.
“I am sure we can find the time. I would hate to think that the prince is left out in the cold…”
Again, their eyes met. Again, their stares held. And again, there was an unspoken tension hovering between them both. It had existed for some time, but it had grown significantly since that first night spent by Hugh’s bed.
Neither would dare to voice it. Neither would dare to do anything about it. But it was there… and it was palpable.
“Until next time.” Alistair turned on his heel and strode from the room.
As he went, he felt Miss Norleigh watch him, just as he felt the disappointment inherent in his parting. His own disappointment, as well as hers.
Alistair followed Mrs. Fletcher down the hallway and toward his office. The door was open, and he knew this because he heard the bickering of his two guests long before he saw them.
“… you really should not be sitting there,” a female voice said.
“Oh really?” a male voice scoffed. “And why is that?”
“Because the chair belongs to His Grace. It is not yours to sit in.”
The male voice laughed. “Is that so? I don’t see His Grace anywhere, do you? Who is going to stop me?”
“It is not about…” She huffed. “It is not right. And I would expect you to know that.”
“You expected wrong.”
Alistair sighed and shook his head as he approached his office. He knew who the two voices belonged to, of course, but he did not know why they were arguing. Although, to be fair, he should not have been surprised…
“What I expected was that a duke, such as you are, would have at least a modicum of respect for his host. That he would not act like a bore who – Your Grace!” Lady Emily Pearce started in surprise when Alistair strode into the office. “I did not hear you.”
“Too busy complaining,” Carrowell sighed. He sat in Alistair’s seat, his feet up on the desk, his hands folded behind his back. “I suspect that a tornado could have blown through the house and you would not have heard it.”
Lady Emily glared daggers at Carrowell, who grinned wickedly.